


Pet

by probability_space (Tysolna)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Power Play, Riding Crop, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys, Shibari, Slash, breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tysolna/pseuds/probability_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had been sleepless nights interrupted by nightmares, days of tension and helplessness, events sliding beyond his control. But here he was voluntarily giving control to someone else, someone he trusted with his life. He made himself relax and surrender to the other. His master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pet

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by "[Boy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/260459)", written by [Random_Nexus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/pseuds/Random_Nexus), which in turn was written for a SH Kink Meme prompt.  
> I don't know what my Muse was doing when she came up with this, my first foray into writing BDSM, but once the idea took hold, it demanded to be written. Any errors are mine and I would appreciate if you pointed them out to me so I can make this better.

He was blindfolded, arms tied securely behind his back, soft but strong ropes criss-crossing his body from his neck down to his legs, tied in loops and knots tight enough to press into his naked skin. He was kneeling on the floor, his legs spread open, his feet as securely fastened as his hands, a position just this side of uncomfortable. Reflexively he tried to move, but there was no give in the ropes, no loose knot. He was immobilised.

He breathed in deeply in surprise as warm hands in velvet gloves touched his skin, testing the ropes and knots. A voice as velvet as the gloves spoke behind him. "You know what to say when you want to stop, pet."

He didn't know what would happen to him or where this would take him, but he knew that he wanted this, needed this, more than he could say. There had been sleepless nights interrupted by nightmares, days of tension and helplessness, events sliding beyond his control. But here he was voluntarily giving control to someone else, someone he trusted with his life. He made himself relax and surrender to the other. His master. He nodded.

 

"Good", the velvet voice said. "And finally..."

 

He felt something slip over his penis, the press of leather straps above, between and behind his balls, heard the soft click of the fastenings, and he shivered. He had never in his life felt so exposed before, and he surprised himself by loving it. He groaned softly.

 

"Shh, shh, you're doing so well. Look at you, so beautiful, pet. Mine to do with as I wish. Say it. Say you are mine."

"I'm yours", he said, voice trembling and rough.

 

"Yes", the other breathed out, and a velvet hand caressed his face, tipping it up. A soft, almost reverent kiss was placed on his lips. “You only have to say the word, pet, and this will stop. You know that, don't you?”

“Yes”, he answered without hesitation, safe in the knowledge that this would end when he wanted it to. He was kissed again, and it felt like a reward.

 

"You are going to be so good", the voice crooned. "You are going to take everything I'm giving to you, and you are going to like it. You are going to like this..." A hand slid down behind his back, catching hold of a strand of rope and tugging it back until his upper body was bowed tautly backwards, the ropes on his chest biting deep. The other hand was stroking along his front, teasing at his nipples. "Stay like this", his master's voice ordered, and even though the rope was loosened, he did not straighten up.

 

Unseen hands were at his nipples now, slowly tweaking and rubbing and rolling them between two fingers, every sensation running through him like little sparks of electricity, pooling in his groin and making his cock grow and twitch in its cage. Suddenly, the nipples were pinched hard, and something clamped down on them, taking the sensation from pleasure to pain and back into a different kind of pleasure. He heard the jingling of a chain, and felt a heaviness that intensified the pleasure/pain.

 

"Now", his master said as he bowed him forward again, the chain tugging his nipples down heavily, "let's start with the riding crop."

A little shiver of fear ran through him at the words, even as the leather of the crop stroked down his back like a lover's caress.

 

He heard the swish of the riding crop through the air a millisecond before it connected, and he tried his best not to flinch or cry out as a line of pain arced across his back, ran through his body, made the chain swing and tug at his nipples in reply. It hurt, but the pain was good, and the skin wasn't broken, as he knew it wouldn't be. After all, his master was an expert with the riding crop.

But where was the crop? After the first stroke, nothing else had happened, and he was quivering with expectation. More. He wanted more.

He was about to move, to make some sort of plea, when the riding crop again landed on his back, surprising him into stillness. "Patience, pet", he heard his master say with a slight hint of amusement. "You are not the one in control."

 

His master was right, of course. There was absolutely nothing he could do - and suddenly, that felt right, it felt wonderful. He almost giggled as the riding crop painted another red line on his back, then another, and another, until the skin on his back was hot and raised in welts across the ropes that bound him and held him together, the weight hanging from his chest swaying in a constant rhythm, his lips swollen from where he had caught them between his teeth to keep from shouting. He had experienced worse pain before, but this was an intimate, personal pain, transformed by pleasure into something as yet unknown to him.

 

The touch of bare hands on the feverish skin of his back felt like ice. "You are doing very well, pet", his master murmured, and he was pleased. "I shall give you a reward for being so good. Bend forward a little more, please, pet", his master ordered, guiding his bound body down until his forehead rested on the floor. The hands were pinching and stroking his buttocks now, spreading them apart and running feather-light touches down over his anus and perineum. The slow caresses were an immense contrast to the whipping, making them almost torturous. Something soft and warm and slippery was pressed against his hole, pushing in with a gentle but relentless pressure. He gasped as the small butt plug was moved slowly in and out by excruciatingly tiny increments until his muscles were relaxed and the plug slid in. He shivered uncontrollably at the feeling, his cock thick and straining at its bonds, his whole body wanting to move but unable to, his mind awash with desire to shout, to run away, to demand more of this, all his impulses short-circuiting and drowning in the mix of pleasure and pain as the chain attached to his nipples swung again in time with the movements of the plug in and out of his arse. He could feel the sweat pool on his face and on the small of his back, and he was panting shallowly.

 

“Breathe, pet”, his master admonished him, and he did his best to take deep breaths in and out, feeling the ropes and the chain and the plug inside him with every inhale, with every exhale, and the simple act of breathing became hypnotic. He was swimming in the sensations, losing himself in them. He was held by his upper arms and gently moved back into an upright kneeling position. The movement shifted the plug, making it nudge firmly against his prostate. He threw his head back as galaxies danced and exploded in front of his blindfolded eyes, his mouth falling open with a guttural groan. He felt a deep pulse run through his body, while his mind was floating off into space, his only anchors the hands on his shoulders and the voice he trusted murmuring to him.

 

“If you could only see yourself, pet. Oh you are marvellous like this. You're almost there, aren't you, pet. Almost ready to come. I'm sure if I were to touch you here...” A warm hand wrapped itself loosely around his cock, without pressure or movement, just holding it dispassionately, and he sobbed once.

“... ah, yes, I thought so”, his master continued. “But I don't want you to come yet, pet, you're not going to come until I tell you to. Let me hear you, pet, tell me you understand me.”

With the hand still holding his prick, he was scrabbling for language, for coherent thought.

“I'm waiting”, his master said, giving his cock a stroke and a quick squeeze, and he started babbling. “Haaaahyes, oh god, yes, please, please yes, please, please....” The hand released his cock and was laid over his mouth, silencing him.

 

“Good, very good. You're doing so well, pet”, his master told him, and he basked in the praise. His master's hands were now running through his hair, pulling back his head and exposing his throat. One hand kept his head steady, while the other stroked down his neck, over his shoulders and down to tangle into the chain at his chest, tugging it down, and he felt the pain at his nipples while gentle lips were at his throat, kissing and nibbling. Soft breath was blown over his sensitised skin, and he whimpered. He was laid open before his master, blind and bound, touched with gentleness and pain from inside and out, utterly powerless, and it was a bliss so all-consuming it made him tremble and moan as his master's tongue licked slowly up his throat and his chin and into his mouth.

“One more thing, pet”, he heard/felt his master murmur into his mouth. “Will you give me one more thing”, and a hand was laid into his bound hands. He squeezed it, yes, yes, anything his master was asking of him, he was willing, he wanted like he never wanted anything in his life before, yes.

 

“Good”, his master purred. “You are so good. Now, let go of all control.” The mouth closed over his as if in a kiss, and then he felt his master's breath blown into him, as gentle and relentless as he had earlier pushed the plug inside him. He tried very hard not to struggle, to let himself be taken over, and was rewarded with an appreciative hum, and another breath from his master, and another, until it seemed that he was not breathing on his own, that there was nothing else but this, this rapture, this euphoria of losing himself completely.

 

He was so far gone that he almost did not feel his master's hand move away from the chain, caressing down over the ropes on his belly, coming to rest on his cock, wrapping around it and stroking it with a slow rhythm.

 

“Yes”, he heard his master say as if from a distance, “yes, pet, you are ready now. Aren't you.” He squeezed the hand in his hard, but could not speak. Language was a concept he had forgotten.

 

He groaned, he whimpered, he strained against his bonds and shouted wordlessly as the rhythm picked up and the heavy fullness in his cock and balls became almost unbearable. Everything he was feeling, the push and pull of the ropes, the pain on his back and chest, the delicious fullness of the plug in his arse, all of it was channelled into this rhythm, concentrated to that focus there, just there, just a little more, please, please, oh god please...

 

“Come for me, pet, come for me now”, his master commanded as he heard the fastenings snap open, releasing the pressure, and for an eternal moment he felt weightless, in free fall over an abyss, his whole being contracting to a pinpoint and then exploding outward, waves of ecstasy gripping him and throwing him into blinding darkness as he came and came with a silent shout.

 

\---------

 

Soothing touches brought him back to himself. The ropes, plug, chain and blindfold were gone, and he was lying on their bed, feeling clean, warm, and comfortably tired. Strong, capable hands were rubbing his back with lotion while the man above him murmured gently. He breathed in deeply and sighed in contentment.

“You should drink something, John”, Sherlock said softly. “I've brought tea, will you have some?”

 John nodded and hummed, smiling at Sherlock. He took the proffered mug, drinking a few sips to soothe his throat which was hoarse from shouting. “Sherlock”, he said, and cleared his throat, “that was... “ He searched for the right word while Sherlock looked at him with slight worry. “... amazing. Perfect.” Sherlock relaxed as he took the mug from John. Following John's smile and his outstretched hand, he laid down on the bed, tugged the duvet up to cover them both, then wrapped himself around John protectively.

 “Sleep now, John”, he whispered and kissed the nape of his lover's neck. “Sleep.”

 

“Yes”, John sighed, closed his eyes and at last drifted off into peaceful, restful sleep.


End file.
